Page 6 of Alik

“No.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head a pathetic number of times. Urine reeks, but I don’t bother looking down at his pants. “That’s everyone. I swear to God.”

“Why is the DEA putting so many resources toward the Bratva?”

“The Special Agent in Charge wants to clean up Las Vegas.”

“He believes he can do that?”

“Apparently.”

Then he’s a real dreamer.

“How many agents does the DEA have on the other organizations? Are they going after the Irish and Italians with the same force?”

“I don’t know. I just do my job.”

“Bullshit.”

His head snaps up to face me as his eyes widen with panic. I’m not even near the crank. What a pussy.

“I’m not lying to you. I don’t have information on cases that aren’t mine. The force is tired of organizations like yours infecting our city, so I’m sure the DEA has agents undercoverwith the others, but I can’t tell you how many because Idon’t know. I?—”

“Calm down, Cullin. That’s enough.”

I roll my neck and close my eyes for a moment. He’s just put five more things on my to-do list, and already, I’m mentally preparing myself for it, along with what I’m going to tell my boss.

The Pakhan is going to want hell raised.

Five agents.Five. On top of the three I’ve already found and the two busts we’ve had this month. Agent Cullin isn’t lying. The DEA is coming down on ushard, so this Special Agent in Charge must be both a man with a cause and a death wish.

Stepping back, I rub my eyes. It isn’t dark in here. In fact, it’s mercifully dim, but the spotlight behind Cullin is irritating enough that I’m glad we’re finished.

“Alik, please,” Cullin whimpers. “Just shoot me. Just get it over with.”

“Alik!” His voice quakes when I get to the crank and don’t take out my gun.

“Sorry.” I rotate the crank to lower him to the rats. “I’m just doing my job.” I say it just to mimic him, but I don’t know if he hears me. If he does, I doubt he’d recognize his own hypocrisy. It certainly doesn’t occur to him now as his screams fill the basement.

Without another look, I tuck my hands in my pockets and head up the stairs, leaving him to be eaten alive as my boss requested. If it were up to me, I would’ve used the gun, not out of pity but out of efficiency. I’m not as theatrical as my boss.

But nothing is up to me. I’m a soldier for the Bratva. An enforcer. As Cullin so accurately put it, a weapon. I don’t mind it. I don’t know anything else.

When I make it to the back exit of the building, I kick over the container of gasoline I left by the door and light a match when it oozes out.

Fire erupts the instant the match meets the gas, but I’m already out the door and striding down the alley, pulling my black hood over my head, although I’m hardly concerned with getting seen in this part of town, even at midday.

I reach the parked car around the corner and slide into the backseat, removing my hood when I look over at the Pakhan, Nikita Petrov. He’s staring straight ahead with his hand casually stroking the stubble darkening his chin. His cane rests between his legs, a forever reminder of a time he villainized the wrong enemy. They did him a favor. The limp doesn’t make him look old or weak, only menacing.

“Well?” he asks as the car pulls away.

“You aren’t going to like it.”

His murderous gaze slowly turns my way. Most would apologize or try to ease that gaze, but he’d only see them as weak. And as his weapon, I’m well aware of what happens to people he deems weak.

“We have five more problems to take care of.”

His eyes widen as his hand falls from his face. “What?”

“The DEA is cracking down on the organizations. Apparently, the SAC is getting serious about cleaning up Vegas.”

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